


the strife of Camlann

by Phiso



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Community: rs_games, F/M, Legends, M/M, Multi, Poetry, Retelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-22 20:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phiso/pseuds/Phiso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus knows legends well. And he knows that they can only live for so long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the strife of Camlann

**Author's Note:**

> Captain, O Captain, thanks be to you for your guidance. To my prince, thank you for the initial push. And to my favorite apple, you did more than you think. Thank you. Written for the RS Games 2012.
> 
> Prompt: "When the legends die, the dreams end; there is no more greatness." - Tecumseh

when the legends die  
the dreams end

there is no more greatness

 

Remus knows this  
knows for a fact  
how bright life is when they live  
how anything  
everything  
seems possible  
and then the moment they die  
the lights shut off  
like a switch snapped sharply down  
or a candle  
snuffed out  
a soft slip of smoke and a drop of burning wax  
the only memory of a warmth once well-tended  
now left broken and thrown away

 

 

his existence is a legend  
a folk tale  
a nightmare  
told to children to quiet them and keep them still  
but it hadn’t always been that way.  
he had once been pure  
bright  
free  
but disregarded the rules once  
(once)  
and like the bad little children from bedtime tales  
paid for it forever

he had been told on one occasion  
the horror story creeping in the deep velvet of the night  
of sharp teeth  
rough fur  
blazing eyes  
fuzzy in his mind  
like old film  
but he had paid it no mind  
they were merely words  
a story  
nothing more  
not until it was his  
and the legend engulfed every bit of him

 

it is hard, for a spirit so light,  
to be pinned down  
to be stripped of what it was  
and forced into another form  
he could have been destined for great things  
lived a tale of knights and princes and queens and kings  
but that had been ripped away  
he held no greatness now  
of this, he was sure

on the contrary  
he held darkness  
he held loathing  
he held a fate worse than death  
full  
of pain and screaming and tearing and fear  
sharp tearing teeth and rough flying fur  
and blazing eyes that laughed at him as he cried inside for help  
sounds he knew no one could hear  
but he could not help but howl anyway

he was a legend that held no hope at the end  
one that crept the shadows at the edges of the night  
the child that could cause others to scream in terror  
the filth that no one was allowed to touch  
and soon he resigned himself  
left  
shackled and hidden  
to allow the legend to eat away at him until he was empty

 

and then  
before the final stroke  
the final lick of the bloody red tongue  
and before the final bite  
(do it, do it now)  
there was a flicker  
the candle of another’s glow  
once promised but assumed lost  
sudden and tempting and full of promise and pain  
he was offered its warmth and with hesitation he took it  
afraid of being burned but oh so cold

 

and slowly  
surely  
and yet all at once  
it became clear to him that living in darkness was not a given  
and all shadows were accompanied by light  
that there were lords of gold and silver  
of courage and strength  
just within reach  
and he craved their shine as much as he feared it  
for they were far beyond what he could ever hope to deserve  
and what royalty would do anything but slay the monsters of old?

but he learned  
they were true  
their hands did not aim to hurt him  
their words fed him rather than starved  
and for the first time  
in a long time  
he began to feel the weight of his chains crumble away

he found solace in his king of gold  
his cowardly but stout knight  
and his banished silver prince  
the souls of boys-and-men who saw his legend and laughed  
seeking to rewrite it

(not erase it  
not like his parents  
who had nearly erased him in the process)

and rewrite it they did

their leader, who was their legs and their heart  
the king of the sun and of the summer  
the miracle child born into gold  
he blazed forth in a flurry of energy and conviction  
encouraging, charging  
and always  
always  
happy to fight alongside his men  
for what was he, without his men?  
and the wolf  
who had forgotten he had hands  
used them to do whatever he was asked  
for he had been forgiven for a transgression long since past  
and for once, the origins of his legend did not matter  
what mattered was its end  
and the wolf would do anything to become a man again

he followed his golden king and watched him find his queen  
a queen of flowers and warm fire and worthy of thousands of ships  
she, so kind and so fierce  
as gentle as a spring breeze and strong as a winter’s hearth  
his king loved her and so did he  
and the wolf vowed  
to do whatever it took  
to keep them both smiling  
because when they smiled  
(especially at him)  
the wolf felt blessed  
and no longer lost

he stood beside his timid knight and helped him find himself  
a frightened boy trying to grow  
tied down by his own devil, forged in his proper mind  
and as vicious as any other created  
they, wandering and afraid  
in learning they were not alone  
soon became more than they were  
and despite moments of uncertainty  
(and suspicion)  
they both learned the meaning of fortitude

but his prince  
his beautiful banished prince  
cut by his brother and cursing his tree  
willingly throwing aside his shield to face the flames  
he was the weakness  
the ultimate strength  
the Achilles’ heel and the blood flowing through his veins  
the young lord with hair black as those mournful nights  
skin that could be white as snow or warm as sunlight  
glowing like the moon  
and eyes  
silver and fierce and hurt and proud  
as dangerous as the metal that could pierce and end him  
and yet so irresistible

so alone

so lost

so different

and yet so like him.  
the lost black dog of the graveyards.

who  
with the others  
the lords who had gained another form  
just to keep his legend company  
would lick his wounds  
and quiet the cries that only they could hear.

 

their bliss lasted as long as it could  
sweet and huge and overflowing  
wicked smiles and mischievous grins dotted the days like stars  
laughter rang out like song  
even suffering was washed away with the rain  
and friendship and love rewrote him  
with every embrace and hearty clap

but it wasn’t to last  
a shadow, larger than he had ever dreamed of, was growing from the beyond their stories  
creating small betrayals that felt like mountains and straining their bonds to their limits  
foul and gruesome and determined to swallow them all  
it chased at their heels, snapping, and like children they fled  
until they realized it would never cease  
until the prince faced his demons  
the knight sought his valor  
and the king and queen fought for their right to live

together they sought to defeat the darkest of lords  
an evil spirit with the foulest of names  
inhuman  
and threatening to smother the warmth of his new-found gold and eat away at the legends that he had embraced  
and drain him out  
(the man, he was a man)  
until there was nothing left but the story he had fought to smother and change

(not a wolf)  
(not in his heart)  
(but a man)

his king and queen, his knight, his prince  
he would do anything for them  
he would become the nightmare he so feared if he could keep them safe  
because even the nightmares could be faced  
if he knew his grave would be guarded.  
but he could not expect  
he did not see  
he thought he had understood

how could the rules of legends change?

 

 

it was a dark time  
that only got darker  
as he took step after step  
his nightmares became real  
but even they did not prepare him  
for the last part of the story  
the final stroke  
the final betrayal

the golden king and queen slain  
their son  
the new prince  
abandoned and lost and whisked away to corners unknown  
the echo of a legend left in his wake  
and a future that did not promise what they had hoped

the knight  
fallen  
completely obliterated  
his amateur sword nothing in comparison to

him.  
the traitorous prince.  
the man he loved with all his heart.  
the man made up of the nightmares of his nightmare.  
banished only to be welcomed  
lost only to find a new way  
seizing the chance  
to make him bleed  
and watch the gold and scarlet fade away to black  
as dark as night.

 

Remus knew about legends.  
He had grown up around them  
permeating his very being.  
The King and Queen  
The Knight  
and the Banished Prince  
all  
(all)  
befriending the monster  
and turning it to light.

But not all legends, he knew now, ended well.  
Legends died.  
And when legends died, so did his dreams.  
The book was over. Their chapter ripped out.  
No one would remember anything but the echoes of their lives  
and their love  
and how it tied in with that terrible war.

He was left alone again.

There was no more greatness.


End file.
